Soliloquy of Insecurity
by DistrictNineAndThreeQuarters
Summary: HBP. After Ron's inadvertent poisoning, Hermione is at his beside, confessing some long-repressed thoughts. "'...I guess it was nice to feel wanted, for once. I know you didn't mean to, but you hurt me then, Ron. I wanted to be more than just a last resort to you…Viktor made me feel like I wasn't second best…You should understand how important that is…'"


A/N: This idea just came to me a little while ago. It's not my best piece ever, but I think it's still worth reading. Also, I'm so sorry I haven't been able to update lately. I just started my junior year of high school and it's already getting stressful. I do what I can in my spare time, but I can't guarantee the daily updates I used to do.

I haven't done a disclaimer in a while, so I should probably get into that: If it's recognisable, it's not mine. Merlin, I can't believe we actually have to clarify that. Wow.

Anyways, enjoy! As always, reviews and con crit are greatly appreciated.

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After Ron's inadvertent poisoning, Hermione is at his beside, confessing some long-repressed thoughts.

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**Soliloquy of Insecurity**

I yawn heavily, blinking my watery eyes. I can feel the muscles behind my eyes tiring, my eyelids drooping heavily, burning with sleepiness. The battered watch around Ron's wrist reads six minutes to midnight. I wonder what Madame Pomfrey would do if she saw me sleeping here, curled up in my chair or slumped over the fast-asleep figure of my best friend.

Ron's chest rises and falls steadily beneath the white sheets of his hospital bed. His hand is warm but motionless between both of mine.

"You really can be a prat, you know," I mutter under my breath, though I can't keep the fondness out of my own voice.

He's silent as ever, of course. I glance at my bag, lying neglected on the floor, and consider retrieving my old diary to make an entry. My thoughts tumble in my head, haphazard and disorganised.

When I was younger, I would talk to myself as I wrote in my journal, as though I was verbally editing my entries, so my writing wouldn't be so discursive. Ron would have no recollection of me talking, as far as I know. I eye his inert form suspiciously, as though waiting for a guarantee of confidentiality.

"Seeing her glued to you day and night was really wearing on me," I admit. "I felt bad at first, because I thought she made you happy, and I didn't want to do anything to ruin that. But I saw, eventually. I could see you were miserable with her. But what could I do? Daft girl can't take a hint."

Absentmindedly, I twist Ron's watch around his wrist. It has the appearance of something second-hand, no doubt it is; in fact, I vaguely remember seeing a photograph of Charlie wearing this same watch. My voice drops an octave. "I know it's hard, feeling second best. But you're not, Ron. I guess when you're younger, the bar is already set so high…you don't have to try to compete with your brothers if you lose yourself in the process…I don't mind, you know, that you're not rich. It never mattered to me. But back to my original thought. She was too clingy and stupid for you, wasn't she? You can do better."

I pause, wondering how to phrase my next sentences. "For a while I wondered if you were right for me. I thought maybe I just wanted you so no one else could have you. But I see now, I do fancy you, Ron. Even when you're mad at me, even though you can be really thick and crude. I never saw Harry as anything more than a brother. To be honest, I liked you before I liked Viktor. I don't think I ever really liked Viktor. He was a sweet guy, but he just didn't have that same sort of charm that you do. It was just nice to go to the Ball with a famous Quidditch player…I guess it was nice to feel wanted, for once. I know you didn't mean to, but you hurt me then, Ron. I wanted to be more than just a last resort to you…Viktor made me feel like I wasn't second best…You should understand how important that is…Some part of me was happy that night, when you got angry…It felt nice to be the one making someone else jealous, for once."

I pull Ron's blankets higher up around his body before continuing with my impromptu monologue. "I don't think I'm good enough for you, Ron. I'm boring and bookish, and I'm not even pretty... Even with my teeth fixed up, I don't compare to Lavender. And besides, I'm always doing something to irritate you…I don't mean to do it, you know. If that means anything. I'm not trying to make you mad, or jealous, at least not anymore…I guess the chase got old. I don't even want to pretend to love anyone but you, Ron. Jealousy isn't a good substitute for love."

Suddenly, my heart jumps in my chest. Love. I just said love. Cautiously, I swallow the lump in my throat before going on, confessing to him what I wouldn't even confess to myself.

"I don't know when the line started to blur, Ron…Right now I'm starting to wonder if I just woke up one day in love with you…But I do love you. I know that's pushing it. I don't expect that back."

I stifle another yawn. The words won't come anymore; I can't find the right ones to convey my thoughts. Ron's watch reads ten past midnight. Wistfully, I realise I'd be wise to head back to my dormitory now. My dormmates are most likely asleep, so at least I stand a chance of avoiding Lavender, who will no doubt throw a fit when she sees me. Reluctantly, I tear myself from Ron's sleeping form and sling my bag over my shoulder.

One day, I'll find the courage to tell Ron all this when he can hear me.

"I'm glad you're my friend, Ron." I brush his fringe of ginger hair aside and press a light kiss to his forehead before walking away.

A few steps from his bed, I swear I hear a noise.

"Her...my...knee."


End file.
